


build our altar here

by darlingargents



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Awkward Crush, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Painful Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Post-IT (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents
Summary: It’s different, with Dad.Everythingis different, with Dad.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Frank Kaspbrak
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2020





	build our altar here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/gifts).



> This is set at some nebulous time after the first movie, so Eddie is in the 13/14 age range. Eddie's also not quite self aware enough to realize that there are consent issues here.
> 
> Title from Bedroom Hymns by Florence + The Machine.

The nightmares haven’t stopped.

Even as Eddie’s arm heals and the cast is sawed off, as the cut on his hand heals to a pale scar he never looks at for more than a few seconds, even though Eddie never thinks about the clown during the day, the nightmares have stayed.

Mommy didn’t like it when he had nightmares. She would hear screaming and spend an hour or two fawning over him, making him warm milk and petting his hair and promising that everything is okay while Eddie’s eyes itched and he longed to go back to sleep.

It’s different, with Dad.  _ Everything _ is different, with Dad.

He missed Eddie’s entire childhood, only showing up right before Eddie started ninth grade. There had been screaming fights with Mommy and then promises of a lengthy, drawn-out custody battle, and eventually Mommy had just… given up. Eddie still has no idea how his dad managed that. He’s never been able to make her back down.

So Eddie spends half his weeks in a different house on the other side of Derry. Smaller, but brighter and neater. His bedroom there isn’t big and he hasn’t managed to cover the wall with posters yet, but he likes it a lot. A whole lot more than Mommy’s house, stuffy and overcrowded.

He barely thinks of that as his house anymore. It’s just where he spends every other week. Home is where Dad is.

When he’s with dad, the nightmares are more manageable, somehow. Maybe because, when he wakes up screaming, he slips into Dad’s bed, and Dad just holds him closer. Doesn’t panic or check his pulse. Just holds him.

Eddie really likes it.

The first time he wakes up hard in Dad’s bed, it’s not a surprise, but it  _ is _ humiliating.

He’s basically the big spoon, arms wrapped around Dad’s back, and his dick poking into his lower back. Obvious. Feeling his face flaming red, Eddie shifts his hips away and pulls his arm off his dad’s back to try and escape back to his room. Before he can roll over and get up, Dad groans in his sleep and rolls over, one arm flopping across Eddie’s chest. Trapping him.

Fuck.

Dad mumbles something in his sleep and Eddie is distracted, for a moment, by how different he looks when he’s sleeping. During the day he often looks stressed — Eddie knows he lost a huge chunk of his savings in the legal battle to get Eddie, and he’s working sixty hours a week at the Tracker Brothers’ Truck Depot to try and keep them afloat, keep this rented house and stay here with Eddie. Eddie can see the weight of it in the lines around his mouth and eyes, but not now: while sleeping, Frank Kaspbrak looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

With his arm over Eddie’s chest, Eddie is trapped, and all he can do is look at his dad. The smoothed-out lines, the slight curve of a smile as he breathes softly.

Eddie’s cock twitches.

No. No, fuck, this can’t be happening. He tries again, in vain, to free himself, and all he does is make his dad pull him closer. Eddie’s dick is trapped between his stomach and his dad’s hip and he can’t move it, he can’t, except—

His hips thrust up into the narrow space, almost involuntarily, and his eyes roll back in his head. It’s not that it’s an overwhelming amount of stimulation, but it’s hot and tight and — look.

Eddie didn’t grow up with his dad. His dad is, unfortunately, pretty much exactly his type. Taller than him, broad, strong. And he’s never felt safer with a person than he does with his dad.

This is still wrong and fucked up on so many levels, and Eddie can’t keep doing this, no matter how good it feels. He wriggles and tries to force his way out, the wet tip of his cock dragging along his dad’s skin — fuck, he’s so wet already, it might be coming through. When he notices that, he’s too humiliated to realize that his dad is blinking awake until he hears a mumbled “Eddie?”

“Dad,” he says, “sorry, I have to — I have to go—”

Dad moves his arm and Eddie’s out of bed as fast as he can go. He’s shaking and he’s still hard and he has to hope that his shirt is long enough to cover the front of his boxers as he stumbles towards the door.

“Eddie,” Dad says again, and Eddie freezes. All the blood in his brain must be flowing to his dick, he thinks, because there’s no other reason he should’ve listened.

“Come here,” Dad says, and Eddie does. He pats the bed beside him and Eddie climbs up, up on his knees, feeling himself go beet red. “Take off your shirt.”

The shirt feels like Eddie’s last bit of dignity. His little boxers aren’t hiding much of anything, and he can tell there’s a wet spot on them now from where he’s dripping like he’s already gotten off. It’s raw and bare and vulnerable, and Eddie can’t help himself. He can’t say no when his dad looks at him like that.

When Eddie drops his shirt on the floor, Dad’s breath hisses out through his teeth like he’s been punched in the gut. Eddie’s never seen an expression like that on someone’s face: open hunger and love and pride all mixed into one.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Dad says, and Eddie bites down a whine at just those words, feeling another spurt of precome dribble out of his dick.

It’s like a dam is broken. Dad is sitting up and pulling Eddie into his lap and Eddie can feel him under his ass, harder than he is. Bigger. Eddie swallows down whatever the hell he’s feeling and looks up into his dad’s face.

Dad cradles Eddie’s face in his hands and Eddie has to close his eyes for a moment, because it’s too much. It’s all too much, the heat of his dad’s body, the pressure of his cock and his gaze.

“Kiss me,” Eddie says, suddenly so desperate that he can’t stop himself. “Daddy, please—” and his begging is swallowed in his dad’s mouth. It’s a good kiss, deep and wet and filthy, Eddie’s mouth being stretched open and explored. Eddie grinds down on his Dad’s cock and he groans, low and rough, into Eddie’s mouth, before breaking away with a spit-slick noise of separation.

“Fuck, Eddie,” he says, and Eddie has never liked the sound of his own name more. For that matter, the word  _ fuck _ has never felt more like a promise.

“Please,” Eddie says, not even sure what he’s asking for. “Please, Daddy, please—”

Between breaths, Eddie is on his back, his dad leaning over him. Dad looks like he’s going to devour Eddie whole, and Eddie wants it. Eddie can’t say no, wouldn’t even imagine it.

Dad grabs the waist of Eddie’s boxers and slides them down his legs, slow and almost ritualistic. Eddie’s cock springs free and Eddie realizes he can see the shape of his dad’s, too, through his boxers.

“Dad, take them off,” he says, and sure, it’s not eloquent, but he’s surprised he can manage words at all in this state. Dad laughs softly and backs up a little, kicking them off somewhere on the floor and crawling back on the bed to kiss Eddie again.

Between kisses, Eddie can see it, and he can’t stop looking. It’s so big, so much bigger than his, with a bigger thatch of dark hair spreading around it. Eddie wants to put his mouth on it, wants to feel it inside him. He’s thought about these kinds of things before, vaguely, maybe with a boy his own age, but he’s never felt a desire like this, so strong he can feel his mouth flooding with saliva just from looking. Like he’s going to die if he doesn’t feel it, if he doesn’t get a hand on himself soon.

Eddie reaches for his own cock and his dad bats his hand away. “Let me help you, kiddo,” he says, and moves down.

He wraps his lips around the head of Eddie’s cock and sucks, and Eddie almost blacks out. The sight of his dad between his legs, the feel of his cock being sucked, is almost enough to make him blow, and he holds himself back, because he doesn’t want this to end. It’s a precious and finite moment and he has no idea if he can hold onto it.

“Daddy,” he says again, because it feels right, because Dad liked it so much the first time, and Dad’s head goes down, down, until Eddie feels the head of his cock bumping up against something solid. His dad’s throat. He can see his dad’s lips wrapped around his cock, right to the base.

“Fuck,” Eddie whines, biting his lip almost hard enough to break skin, and his hands flail for purchase, one grabbing a pillow and one landing on his dad’s shoulder. Dad can’t smile like this, but Eddie swears he can feel it as he pulls off and goes back down again.

He does it a few more times, enough that Eddie is almost there anyway and giving up resisting it, and then he adjusts a little, his fingers sliding up Eddie’s inner thigh. He’s too turned on to feel ticklish, and doesn’t take much note of it until his fingers are sliding across Eddie’s hole. Not pushing in, not doing anything, just… touching.

Eddie imagines his dad’s cock inside him, filling him up and splitting him open, and comes so hard his vision goes white. He thinks he says something,  _ Daddy _ or  _ fuck fuck fuck _ or some random combination of syllables, but he can’t be sure.

When he can see and feel again, his dad is beside him, still naked and still hard. Without thinking, Eddie reaches down to grab his cock. It’s hot and red and slick with precome — he leaks like Eddie does. He strokes his dad the way he likes, quick and hard, a few twists at the head.

“Yes, Eddie, you’re so good,” he murmurs into Eddie’s hair, and Eddie’s spent cock twitches against his thigh at the praise. “So good for me, kid, the very best. Gonna teach you how to suck my cock like a champion, baby.”

“Daddy,” Eddie whines, high in his throat, and his dad’s cock pulses in his hand. He comes across his own chest and Eddie’s stomach, some of it landing on Eddie’s cock, with a low groan that Eddie feels in his chest.

He pulls Eddie into a kiss the moment Eddie lets go of his softening cock. His mouth tastes like Eddie’s come and Eddie just wants to keep kissing him forever.

“You taste so sweet,” he says, and Eddie closes his eyes and pulls his dad closer.

It doesn’t stop.

A part of Eddie had worried that it would — that his dad would try to pretend it never happened, to go back to normal. But it doesn’t. Eddie wakes up hard with his dad’s hand already wrapped around him and comes, half-awake, still in his boxers. He learns to suck his dad’s cock, pulling off and asking, “Am I doing it right, Daddy?” when he can tell Dad is getting close, and swallowing down everything his dad gives him.

It’s overwhelming and wonderful and Eddie is drunk on it, the bruises on his thighs and neck and the way his jaw hurts when he blows his dad for too long. The bruises on his knees from crawling under the kitchen table to suck his cock while he drinks coffee and does the crossword.

Eddie laughs off the jokes about his new bruises. He tells his friends he has a girlfriend in Bangor, and he can tell they don’t quite believe him, except Richie. Richie is just sulking, because Richie does that.

Eddie should care, but it’s hard, when all he wants to think about is the next time his dad’s mouth will be around him.

The first time his dad fucks him, only a few days after the first time, it hurts.

They’re making out in his bed, late at night, and Dad smells like motor oil and gasoline even after his shower. Eddie’s hands are buried in his hair, twisting and pulling as his dad sucks another bruise into his chest, next to his nipple. “My good boy,” he says, “my boy, want to see you on my cock—”

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “please, Daddy, please, I need it.”

He has no idea what it will be like, but he needs it, suddenly, like he needs air. He needs his dad inside him. He squirms away and pulls down his boxers, damp from his leaking cock, and his dad does the same.

Dad pulls some lube out of the bedside drawer — he’s pulled it out a couple times and smeared it over Eddie’s thighs, fucking them from behind, almost like real sex. This time, he smears it on his own cock and lines up with Eddie’s hole, so fast that Eddie is almost blindsided.

There’s some lube on his fingers and he pushes two of them in at once, and the stretch burns. Eddie whimpers, covering his face with his forearm, not sure if he wants to rock into the fingers or pull away from them.

“Relax, kiddo,” Dad says, and pushes in further. Eddie lets out a real gasp at that, the pain warring with the feeling of fullness, of needing  _ more _ . He tries to relax, tries to lean into it.

“Good,” Dad says, and pulls out his fingers. Before Eddie can take a breath, he lines up his cock again and pushes in.

“ _ Daddy _ ,” Eddie gasps. He’s going slow but it still feels like it’s tearing him open. Eddie grabs his dad’s shoulders and holds on for dear life as it goes in and in and in, every inch agonizingly slow. It hurts and feels so goddamn good at the same time and Eddie doesn’t understand how, but he needs it.

When it finally stops, when Eddie is finally full, his dad rests his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder, laughing softly, the feeling shaking through Eddie’s body. “Fuck, kid, you’re so tight. You feel so fucking good for me, you’re so good.”

Tears prick at Eddie’s eyes. It’s not the pain — that’s fading now — it’s being good; every time his dad tells him that, he melts. It’s stupid, it’s ridiculous, but after a lifetime of being damaged and sick, it feels so good to be wanted, to be told he’s doing everything right just by being himself.

“I love you, Daddy,” he whispers against his dad’s hair, and Dad pulls back, smiles down at him.

“I love you too, Eddie,” he says, and starts fucking Eddie for real. Everything dissolves into bliss; Eddie comes without touching his cock, he thinks, and his dad keeps fucking him until he’s crying for real and then he comes again, somehow, a hand fisted around his oversensitive cock. When his dad pulls out, Eddie can feel his come dripping out of his hole, which should be disgusting but isn’t.

“You’re so good, Eddie,” his dad says, lying beside him on the bed. The blankets are down at their feet and Eddie doesn’t want to move to get them, or move to clean up. He just wants to lie here forever.

“I love you,” Eddie says again, insistent, and his dad reaches out and touches his face, gentle, worshipful.

He doesn’t need to say it back. Eddie knows.


End file.
